Bom in Tu'val
by Baseplate
Summary: Follow Bom's personal experiences during the occupation of Tu'Val -a small town outside Vasclorein City- by the Russians at the beginning of the invasion and at the end of the war as the story explains many of the horrors that she had to face and the struggle of the inhabitants to survive. M for violence, language and suggestive scenes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bom is not mine. Neither is the cover. Bom is an OC, as well as the cover, and they were created by a friend who had generously allowed me to use the both of them for my story. For reference, please check the link in my profile.

Happy reading !

Chapter One

**Outskirts of Vasclorein City**

**Town of Tu'Val, "Sector DH-42"**

**Five years prior to the invasion of Irk**

'_The unthinkable had occurred. In the human calendar, it was on the date of the twenty-seventh of June. Year of two thousand and twenty one. The Russian Federation encircled the city and advancing on the Tallest Tower, street by street. The sun barely broke through the clouds that day, and the presence of dust was so heavy, it was almost as if oxygen was non-existent. Where do I start? What are the right words? As a language specialist I've travelled to twelve different planets. I visited Vort, Keplar, and even Earth. I enjoyed those planets. But I came back. I wanted to be a part of it. My name doesn't matter. I was just one of many who believed in my Empire's destiny. Doubts were those of the weak minded and defective. Vort, Keplar, Earth. A never ending triumph of conquest._'

"The Earthen governments lack leadership," Said the ruby eyed Irken in uniform in front of her. "By the time they recover," He took a moment to look up in the mirror, gazing into her bubble gum pink eyes as he pushed his antennae flush to his head, smiling all the while. "We'd have already disorganized them enough for the killing blow."

The Irken grasped the towel wrapped around his neck and set it down upon the sink, ever so gently. Then coming back up and twirling around.

"Sorry for barging in, but we happen to be at war."

The Irken reached back to the sink, grasping a small watch off a small flat tin, then wrapped it around his left wrist, securing it by the magnetic clasp on the back. After securing it, he turned around with a smile on his face, slowly approaching the female standing in the doorway, stopping in front of her, gently resting his forehead on hers. The Irken was wearing a grin on his face, and the female shyly looked to the floor, trying to suppress her own smile.

_'The day Ger left, his boots echoed through the house. We were convinced we were right. We all breathed the same air and it was intoxicating.'_

* * *

**Five years later…**

"Run!" A male voice had broken through her dazed state in Irken amidst the dust filled air. "Get out of here! Go!"

Bom was stumbling, barely able to see the ruble at her feet, barely able to hear the native and foreign weapons a like exchanging fire between one another. She couldn't hear it, but she felt the artillery rumbling in the distance beneath her feet.

She couldn't remember how many, but she had run past several Irken defensive positions. Their weapons blazing, casting purple auras around them as the muzzle flash and resulting plasma lit the area around them. She didn't like to admit it, but if they were already here, Bom knew those weapons wouldn't help those Irken soldiers fighting meaninglessly in the streets.

"Here!" An Irken female called out, waving. "In here!"

Bom looked to her right; the other Irken was still calling out to her, pointing downward into a small cellar like doorway, more than likely into the advanced network of underground tunnels that lie under the surface of Irk.

Bom pushed her way past the cramped entrance, shaking off the small concussive wave she had suffered from the explosion in the streets. She briskly made her way down the stairs, trying not to trip down the flight of stairs she guessed to have ten or so steps downward into the dimly lit corridors.

She reached the bottom, looking around, finding no way but forward, so she decided to run until she found a safer place to hide. She ran for what she guessed to be ten or so seconds before she came to another, wider, corridor, where an Irken male stood, ripping his helmet off and casting a hologram over himself to hide his uniform in civilian clothing.

"No uniforms and no weapons or they will shoot and kill us all." He said.

After the first Irken was satisfied he looked the part, he took off down the larger corridor, causing three more males and another female to drop all their combat gear and activating their own holograms. Bom looked the opposite direction, and for a moment considered running that way, but realized the tunnel must have collapsed due to the fact no light was visible, so she decided to run with the soldiers as they took off after their leader.

Bom ran with them, for maybe another ten seconds or so until they reached a room, where more Irken civilians funneled into, and more soldiers disposed of their combat gear and weapons, then disguising themselves and entering.

"Has anyone seen my daughter?" A female asked from inside.

No one had answered her, and she simply turned around and ran further into the room.

"No news. No orders." One male spoke to another, standing inside the room near the door as Bom walked in. "Nothing!" He yelled, slamming his closed fist into the concrete wall. "Nobody give's a Dookie about us."

Bom didn't recognize any of these Irkens in here. She found it odd that she didn't. She knew everyone in her town quite well. Had they all retreated into the city for more protection? Perhaps even past one of the defensive walls? But how had they found their ways past them? She would probably never know. She, along with ever other Irken in the shelter would eventually be found... And killed.

"Pavonal? Where are you?" Called the same Irken female, still looking for her daughter, with still no answer.

Bom continued deeper into the room. Trying to find a place to set down her bag, the sling thrown over her right shoulder.

"In some parts of the sector they're even welcoming them. Russki loving swine." Said another Irken.

'_Some of them had been booksellers. Shop keepers. Gardeners. That was the pharmacists widow. Her husband had once cured Proog of a horrible headache. But now that's over. Now we step on the corpses of our own dead. Her, she's Khrelan Fallapadax, a natural born Irken and a musician. Her husband is missing. There was never a military presence here; that's not until the Russians announced the liberation of our own planet.' _

"Someone help!" Yelled an Irken female. "She can't breathe!"

Behind the Irken calling out for help lie another female on a makeshift bed crafted from pieces of wood that made the frame and blankets folded over more blankets to make a soft mattress. But where the Irken lay was not a problem at all, the fact was she was more than likely born out a tube, and she was convulsing on the floor, her PAK missing from the exposed ports on her back.

There was nothing anyone could have done for her. Even if they had a spare PAK hanging on the wall, she'd simply turn into a shell of her former self and no longer exist.

_'I'll write it all down, Ger, for you to read.'_

Bom kept quite as she sat down on a small wooden bench, taking the bag off her shoulder and gently set it down on the cold concrete floor.

* * *

_"Stoooy!" _A heavy voice called out in Russian, halting the grinding noise of the tank tracks, the boots of soldiers stopping in the streets as each one took aim at the doors and balconies of the streets.

The man in the grey woolen greatcoat with a portupeya belt wrapped around the waist, it's sling resting over the right shoulder board that held the rank of Major, adjusted his visor cap as he made his way over to the second T-99 Armata tank behind the lead one, and held out his hand as one of the tank operators handed him down a small device.

The Major set his rifle down on the base of the tank and cleared his throat before pushing a few buttons with his index finger and holding the device to his mouth.

"Residents of Tu'Val!" The Russian spoke in Irken. "Residents of this street! All weapons must be handed over at once! This is your last chance. Surrender your weapons at once. This is your last chance."

The Major pressed a few buttons on the device and handed quickly back to the tank operator who had handed it to him and retrieved his rifle from the tank, taking aim with the other soldiers who had taken cover either behind the other tanks or behind fallen debris from buildings.

There was an eerie and near deafening silence in the street.

The dust had settled and the sun had broken through the clouds, which made up for more visibility in the streets; but there was no telling what waited either in the buildings or around the corner of the intersections ahead.

Major Sergei Kuptsov of the 8th Russian Army was ready.

And none too soon.

Sergei guessed perhaps a nitrogen cooled, triple barreled heavy plasma cannon; but whatever it was, it lit up from a balcony and took two Russian soldiers down the instant those bolts of energized plasma struck them.

The rest scurried and took aim, but as the first couple shots were thrown at the enemy from the first balcony, Sergei had spotted more plasma cannons being unveiled from under the lengthy pieces of cloth as their operators prepared to fire. Soon after, Irken troops started to appear in the streets ahead of them. The lead T-99 pintel mounted machine gun lit up alongside its co-axial machine gun, each one engaging targets high and low.

Sergei took aim with his AN-94 rifle, a much older one in comparison to the newer rifles, and squeezed off a few rounds, striking an Irken in his helmet on one of the balconies across the street. His partner came up, pissed, and held the trigger down, spraying rounds in a blind fury, Sergei ducked… And the two men who had been by his side fell to the concrete below.

"We have to secure that building!" Someone yelled in Russian from one tank back. Sergei recognized his voice; it was his younger brother, the companies Captain.

"_Pashlee! Duvay, duvay!_"Another Russian called out as a team of them ran down the street from the rear and entered the building off the Segrei's left side.

Sergei threw his weapon over his shoulder and let it hang off the sling, then leaning down beside the soldier who had fallen closest to him, and secured the flamethrower he had in his hands along with the fuel tanks attached to his back.

"_Simnoy!_" Sergei yelled as he followed the group of soldiers who had advanced into the house.

When Sergei had reached the end of the small corridor to the stairwell, Russian soldiers had already taken aim and started to exchange fire upward as the enemy fired downward down the center of the spiral staircase. Sergei didn't bother to stop and made his way up, fuel tanks secured to his back and flamethrower in hand.

Sergei had reached the third floor when he kicked in the door, held the flamethrower to waist level and waited for an Irken to investigate the sound of the door coming off the hinges. It was not five seconds until one came around the corner, and Sergei squeezed the trigger, torching the bottom half of the enemy in front of him, causing him to scream and drop his rifle. Sergei squeezed the trigger again and started sweeping the room with the inferno.

Sergei dropped the flamethrower and unslung his rifle from his back, walking over to the rail and looking downward, soldiers still firing their rifles as a female medic wearing her arm band and pilotka began gently dragging a downed soldier out of the fray.

"_Soldaty!_" Sergei called down below. "_Poluchit' zdes'!_"

He pulled his exposed head away from the railings and started making his way up to the next floor. Sergei stepped back a moment, raised his foot, but halted and looked over his shoulder as someone rested their hand on it.

"Comrade Major," The Captain started to speak in Russian. "It's not wise to enter yet. I and Sergeant Tamarkin will take the second door down the hall to this room, on our mark."

Sergei simply nodded and waited by the door as his brother took off down the hall with his rifle ready, Sergeant Tamarkin in tow. Sergei kept his eye on the Captain as he prepared a grenade and gave the Sergeant a nod. Sergeant Tamarkin opened the door, and Captain Kuptsov let the RGO impact grenade fly through the doorway. Irkens screamed, the grenade thumped, and then it went off. Sergei kicked the door in and looked left into the kitchen as Sergeant Tamarkin walked into it. The Sergeant was about to complete his sentence saying, 'all clear,' when he had taken a round to the head. Sergei aimed toward the kitchen as an Irken soldier walked into his line of sight. Captain Kuptsov walked into the door Sergeant Tamarkin walked through and aimed his rifle. Sergei pulled the trigger and followed his barrel followed the body dropping to the ground.

"Get medical up here!" Sergei called out, knowing Sergeant Tamarkin was dead the moment that bolt was fired.

Sergei turned around at the sound of something heavy and blunt falling to the floor.

There was a door.

Sergei slowly made his way toward it, trying to keep his boots on the hardwood floor as quiet as possible. Rifle at the ready. He kicked the door in, revealing two Irken soldiers standing there; they both had their hands in the air with their rifles. Their combat armor and helmets lie on the floor beside them.

Sergei took aim, dropped the first one, and before the second had time to react, he effortlessly moved his right to the left and put a round in his head.

Sergei was standing over the combat engineer who had the long range communications unit attached to his back, the connecting phone unit pressed to his ear.

"_Tovarish Polkovnik! _The men have almost reached the station." He waited for a moment for the Colonel's response. He got it, and Captain Kuptsov saw the change in his expression, and didn't like it.

"The orders were to proceed to Miyuki Square!" Sergei screamed. He waited another moment, straightened out his posture and said through gritted teeth, "Yes, sir, Comrade Colonel."

* * *

Sergei threw the phone downward as it clanged off the long range communications unit, making the combat engineer below him flinch. Sergei stomped his way outside, gathered his men, and explained to them what their new orders were.

One man took off his helmet and tossed it as hard as he could against one of the tanks. Voices lifted amongst the men in argument. A Junior Sergeant stepped forward from the crowd.

"No Miyuki Square? Why not? It's so close!"

"_Nyet, nyet!_" A Sergeant Major stepped forward as he protested. "We're going on, dammit!"

The crowd of soldiers started to gain momentum and questioned their commanding officers orders, Sergei knew if these men caused too much attention the others would start agreeing and eventually, they'd have the whole armoured column moving on.

"It's an order!" Sergei called out. The crowd ceased. They knew. They knew that if they disobeyed an order, they'd do what they'd done in the Soviet Union. Except you wouldn't be shot for disobeying an order or even retreating. You'd be shot out into space like an Irken.

"Secure the flanks!" Shouted Sergei; but no one moved. "It's an order!"

(End Chapter)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Outskirts of Vasclorein City**

**Town of Tu'Val, "Sector DH-42"**

**Lower Planet Integrity System, Sub-level 1**

**2 Hours After the Russian Assault **

_'They're coming...'_ Bom thought to herself in the deafeningly silent darkness.

Bom slowly perked up her antenna as the sound of yelling came from the other side of the thick steel door, further down the hall.

She clasped her claw like fingers together, and she thought to herself if she squeezed any harder she'd break one of her digits; or if she had strained her antenna in an attempt to hear the Russians down the hall any more they'd simply fall off.

She could feel the tensity in the room and the pressure of it all was enough to crush her along with every Irken in the room before the Russians even got the chance to touch the door.

"_Odin! Dva! Kacheli!_"

Bom flinched and gasped as she nearly fell off the wooden crate she rested on as a thunderous boom echoed throughout the darkness. She gasped and shuddered as the eerie cold shot it's way up her spine and into her PAK. She covered her mouth and felt her eyes widen to the point where she felt as if she widened them any further she'd rip her eyelids in half.

"Opyat'!" A deep and haggard voice cried before the door burst open and a heavy beam of blinding light flooded the darkness and exposed all within the room.

"_Saldat ili offitsary!?_" A voice called in from the outside.

The light shimmered as a tall dark figure in bulky combat gear pushed its way inside, the figure was wielding a rifle like weapon with a separate beam of light emitting from the side of the riffle and the side of the soldier's helmet. Another figure, shorter than the first slowly weened its way into the room, weapon at the ready.

"___Saldat ili_ _offitsary, koyuboyu!_?" Asked the soldier in a booming voice.

No Irken, as far as Bom knew spoke Russian; save for herself.

The first soldier aimed his weapon at an elderly looking male Irken.

"_O__ruzhiye?_" Asked the soldier in Russian, only to receive a confused look from the Irken as his antenna pressed downward. "Eh?" The soldier jerked his weapon downward and back up again, motioning for the Irken to answer. The Irken simply squinted his eyelids slightly and shook his head gently.

The human soldier lowered his weapon for a moment then stepped to the side and raised it again, scanning the rest of the Irkens seated on either side of the room on small benches, wooden crates and on the bottom bunks of double decked beds.

The soldier kept his weapon leveled as he turned his head toward the door. "_Idi suda, duvaiy, duvaiy, duvaiy_!" He called toward the door that was still emitting the bright light, which now seemed to be bringing heat upon Bom's light green skin.

The light broke on three separate occasions, and Bom raised her left arm and spread her fingers apart, shielding her eyes a bit more as she squinted to see three more armed soldiers enter the room, aiming their weapons at the Irken's being questioned without understanding by the first soldier. Bom couldn't quite make it out, but an Irken had said something in her language, and the first soldier pivoted in place and shouldered his weapon.

"_Chto_!?" Boomed the soldiers voice as he took a firm step forward.

"W-what..." Came forth a hesitant and shaky voice from Bom's lips. "What do you want?" She asked in Russian.

The soldier lowered his weapon and turned far enough toward her so that the mounted light from his helmet was focused on her face. The soldier stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily on the cold concrete floor.

_'Oh, Dookie... I'm dead...' _Bom thought to herself as her breathing intensified to the point you could hear it over the soldiers steel toed black leather combat boots; so she thought.

The soldier was but four feet, Bom guessed, from her front as he crouched down to about half his height as he switched off the light on his rifle and slowly pushed it behind him, letting it hang from the strap slung over his shoulder.

"Speak Russian?" Asked the soldier quietly in Irken.

Bom nervously and shakily nodded her head once.

"Russian..." Repeated the soldier in Irken.

The man slowly reached for the side of his helmet and switched off his light. Bom could see his dimly lit face in front of her, his bright blue eyes almost sparkled even in the shadow of his helmet. His pale white face brightened as a smile slowly drew across his face to the point where each side of his lip reached the end of his cheeks.

The soldier stood back up to his full height, then turned around with his weapon still slung down his back. The young soldier unbuckled the strap under his chin and lifted the helmet from his head, exposing it and revealing his short light hair glistening in the light with small amount of sweat. He turned his head as he tucked his helmet under his right arm and used his left to gesture for Bom to follow him.

"Come." Said the soldier in Irken. He then faced forward to the other Irken's in the room, presumably with the same smile. "Come." He repeated in Irken. "War kaput. Come." Said the soldiers, using his left hand to gesture for them all to get up and out of their seats. "Come, eat." The soldier said as he looked to the other soldiers standing in the room and pointed outward. The other soldiers piled out of the room through the door and the light slowly died out as it was switched off.

"No afraid." Said the soldier as he left the room with his comrades. "No afraid."

Bom watched the other Irken's closely listening in the dim light coming from the hallway as the stepping of boots carrying soldiers in heavy combat armor got slowly fainter and fainter as the soldiers retreated to the surface.

"We won't let them bury us here." Said an Irken female sitting close to Bom.

Bom simply looked over to the Irken, still shaking from the close encounter with the human soldier.

"Let's go." Said the Irken, taking Bom's hand and helping her slowly to her feet.

"I won't let this become a tomb for us." Said the Irken as she gently held Bom's hand and led her out of the room and into the hallway. The Irken leading Bom looked right, one antenna dropped as another cocked upward. She looked left, as did Bom, and they both spotted shimmering beams of light down the corridor and up a pair of stairs.

"Come on." Said the Irken as she gracefully moved forward into the hallway with Bom in tow.

The two of them had walked down the hall a moment and then took a right into a small hallway that led to a pair of stairs, where the shimmering day light found its way inward to the hallways below. The Irken leading Bom gently led her up the stairs as he popped her head out of the open doorway. Bom squinted and raised her free arm over her eyes to shield the sun's rays from her sensitive eyes.

"No afraid!" Called a familiar voice, and not a moment later, a familiar blue eyed face stepped forward to great the two Irken's. "Come, eat."

Bom diverted her attention from the soldier offering them food to eat, and looked around the street, where two heavily armored vehicles sit idle on the opposite side of the narrow street. The heavy doors at the back of the vehicles lay wide open as human soldiers unloaded containers from the doors and set them down in different places as other soldiers set up fortifications a little further down the road on each end.

Bom looked directly upward and nearly blinded herself as the light from the sun grew more intense, she heard a roaring sound ripping through the air, but couldn't see anything. Her eyes widened as a strange bulky looking craft slowly moved forward from above the building behind her and landed on the roof of the building ahead, closest to where the armored vehicles were parked. She looked back down to street level, where she noticed a lot of the human soldiers were looking at both her and the other Irken who had urged her to go with her to the surface.

The Irken in front of Bom slowly moved forward with her hand behind her back, still holding Bom's hand in hers. Bom took a few short and reluctant steps forward before a chill ran up her back and fanned through her shoulders and into her arms to the tips of her fingers. Bom broke off from the Irken, who turned around and smiled before she continued forward toward a wooden table, where generally round but disfigured brown things lay piled on top of it. If she had to guess, she'd say there was at least over a hundred of them stacked on top of the table.

The soldier who had invited them outside had taken the chin strap of his helmet and run it through one of the loops of his armor and clipped the two straps together and secured it to his chest before he reached over to the table and grasped a few of the brown looking things as the Irken neared the table. The pale soldier held the things in the air.

"Potatoes. Very good." He said, smiling.

The soldier set the potatoes back into the pile and stepped back as he held out his arm, insisting that the Irken before him feed herself. Bom recalled reading about potatoes once, but had never seen a picture of one or seen one in person. She couldn't remember too much about them except that they were edible to both humans and Irken's and that the Russian's used them to make an alcoholic beverage that she had also read about.

Nada?

Orca?

Prada?

Something that sounded like one of those words. It had been such a long time since she had read about it that she couldn't quite find the name for it, but it was on the tip of her tongue. There were too many situations where this had happened; where she tried hard to recall the name of something but just couldn't- and it slowly ate away at her until she simply gave up or went extensively into the subject once more.

Bom watched as the Irken picked up one of the potatoes with her right hand and examined it for a moment before looking back to the pile and taking another with her left. She held the first one in her right hand and rubbed it with her thumb, the street was so quiet you could hear the rough texture of the vegetable rubbing with her skin, and bomb faintly heard the Irken laugh at the potato.

The Irken gasped as she looked up, and Bom's eyes widened once more as she spotted an elderly looking human clad in light digitally camouflaged armor aiming his rifle at her, and stepped forward as the Irken held the potatoes in her hand and took three steps backward. The human's grey eyes stay fixed on the Irken, and it was hard to tell his full expression through his scruffy white beard.

The other soldiers simply watched as the Irken slowly raised her right arm and lay the back of her wrist on the elderly man's rifle barrel.

"May I?" She asked.

The Irken gently began to push the rifle aside. The elderly man resisted slightly before loosening his grip on the weapon and gave way, swaying his weapon fully to his left. The Irken smiled gently and bowed her head before she put both her right and left hand down and spread her fingers to retrieve more potatoes.

A soldier somewhere from behind Bom laughed, then another, and another to her right before the entirety of them chimed in. The elderly man's beard lifted as he smiled and set down his weapon and removed the grey ushanka from his head and offered it to the Irken woman in front of him. He gently took her hand and guided it toward the fur hat and she released the potatoes into the vacant hat, then he gently pushed the hat toward her. She took it, bowed then returned to Bom.

* * *

**10 minutes later**

Bom had learned her new friends name, her name was Taeloo. She was a natural born Irken with a pale shade of green skin and honeysuckle pink eyes. Taeloo couldn't quite remember what planet she was from, just that she woke up one day with a severe headache in a Vortian medical center. Taeloo had boiled the potatoes in a pot borrowed from one of the Russian soldiers who had also generously given them a small hotplate to heat the water.

Bom was surprised as to how calmly Taeloo was handling the pot of literal liquid death that could have easily been spilled on either one of them. So Taeloo offered to boil the potatoes elsewhere whilst Bom made a nice comfy spot to eat among the ruble in the streets.

Bom sat in a small pit where she assumed a bomb had landed, where she obtained a piece of ply wood that she set in the scorched crater and leveled it on some concrete and bricks. She sat down cross legged and her antenna perked up as some music began to play somewhere down the street, and soon after she could hear a male singing in the Russian language but couldn't quite make out the lyrics. She peeked out of the crater and saw human soldier gallivanting around the street and smiling as they conversed betwixt one another while others attended to duties around the street.

_'So here are our Russian liberators...' _Bom thought to herself as she crossed her arms on the street above the edges of the crater she had set herself up in, watching the human's go about their business. _'Overjoyed. Obviously amazed at themselves for getting this far. I know them. Their new technologies, their cities and shabby new country they're so proud of. They won't strain themselves.' _

"Ahem." Coughed a voice from behind Bom.

Bom turned around to see Taeloo holding a plate of white mush, a lamp, which she had set down to the side of the wooden floor, and a Russian soldier in tow. His arms holding a couple of blankets and pillows. The soldier stepped down into the crater and his boots tapped lightly on the wood.

"Hey!" Cried Bom, the Russian in his black fatigues froze as his eyes widened. "Take your shoes off. I'm trying to keep it clean in here."

The Russian's eyes shot left then right, he then cocked his head sideways as his eyes laid themselves on Bom with a trivial look. Bom couldn't help but break her serious look and giggle at the soldier, who had taken her joke seriously. The soldier smiled back and gently set the blankets and pillows down and waved before he left.

"Let's eat!" Said Taeloo before she set the plate down in between her and Bom.

* * *

"Quite the luck you have on your side, _tovarish mayor._" Said a Sergeant as Masha, the local combat medic set Sergei down onto a chair next to a table with Captain Vasily's assistance.

"Luck has nothing to do with it Sergeant, that Irken was just a lousy shot!" Replied Sergei, the other officers and soldiers in tow laughing.

Masha set Sergei's leg up on a wooden table as he stay seated at the wooden chair, his brother Vasily seated beside him as other members of the officer corps surrounded the table. Masha was preparing the tools necessary to treat a direct plasma bolt to the upper shin.

"Urine! Try some urine!" Said Vasily, humoring the other officers as well as Sergei as he laughed in his seat.

"That's enough!" Said the combat medic, cutting the charred knee high boot off of Sergei and exposing his leg after cutting the bottom of his combat fatigues.

"No, seriously..." Vasily started again, the other officers looking to him with bright faces. "I used urine to get my general in Moscow back on his feet." The officers laughed again.

Another officer, a Battle Captain, smiled and looked to the medic. "Come on!"

The medic ignored the comment from the Battle Captain and pressed a chemical soaked gauze onto the burn would and Sergei tensed. The medic pulled the gauze off after applying it for a few seconds, then pulled the razor sharp projectile out his leg and tossed it. The medic went back to her kit and retrieved a few more tools.

"How you doing Sergei?" Asked Vasily.

"I'm doing-" Sergei leaned to his right and squeezed his brothers arm as he cliched his teeth and screamed as the medic punched a needle into his wound and injecting a bright pink fluid.

"Sorry." Said Masha in a whisper as she set her hand briskly on his knee then went back to her kit and retrieved a small capsule with blue powder in it. She popped the cap off and quickly applied the powder to the affected area, Sergei tensed more.

Masha gestured for one of the soldiers near to get another needle from her kit as she took a spool of black wire and unraveled it. Once she was satisfied of the length, she cut it with a pair of medical sheers and took the needle from the solder, stretched the wire in front of her, folded it, then tied it and cut off the extra wire. Masha turned around and stuck the needle into the bottom of the open wound, Sergei screamed again, and Masha got to work stitching up the Major.

(End Chapter)


End file.
